Gaypril: Wellness Retreat

Models: Cliff Jensen & Claire Tenebrarum

With every second he ran Bill could feel the wig probing deeper into his mind. It seemed to have a will of its own, weaving its power through his thoughts like sentient roots intent on ensnaring him in their corruptive grip. At first he had hoped he could resist them. But now he wasn’t so sure.

It had barely been five minutes since the wig took hold and already Bill was unrecognisable. Quite apart from the silky pink bob that had replaced his black curls, his body had drastically transformed – and the changes were still coming. He tried to dismiss the pulses of pleasure as his body reshaped itself, but he couldn’t ignore them completely and he gave a soft groan as his stocky legs thinned, the muscles gradually melting away and the hair regressing until they were slim and smooth, his fleshy thighs jiggling as he ran.

Stumbling around a corner he almost overbalanced, narrowly avoiding a fall headfirst into a hedge; he really wasn’t used to wearing heels. Within seconds of the wig latching on his ordinary clothes had felt like sandpaper on his skin. The urge to don something more skimpy had consumed him and he had rummaged urgently through his room’s walk-in wardrobe as he transformed, ripping clothes from hangers and flinging them aside until he found something suitable. Along with the semi-sheer white vest and the hotpants so short they barely covered his swelling ass, the heels had called to him. But that didn’t make it any easier to run in them.

As the doors to Gregory’s room came into view a burst of pleasure threatened to cripple Bill before he could reach it. Erupting outwards from his crotch, he knew it signalled the loss of another inch of his manhood. He had no idea whether it would disappear completely, but given there was barely a bulge in his shorts despite how tight they fitted him, he suspected there wasn’t much left to lose anymore.

Yet what he found most alarming was the fact that part of him didn’t actually want the transformation to stop. The arousal was infecting him and though he forced down the strange cravings for more it simply continued to grow, undermining his thoughts more and more.

The patio doors to Gregory’s room were open and Bill staggered in, breathless with more than just exhaustion. Even as he stood there he could feel his little tits tingling as they grew slowly. His midriff tingled as his gut regressed into a smooth, flat stomach.

‘Gregory? Gregory! Are you here? I need your help! There was this wig on the desk in my room. I don’t know what happened. It must have been a hairasite. I didn’t even try it on – I just picked it up and then it came to life and it got onto my head and now it’s changing me into…’

Bill’s words died on his lips. A dull grunting had drawn his gaze to the sofa where an unexpected sight greeted him. A broad thug of a man was sprawled amongst the cushions, stark naked and jerking his huge cock frantically. His muscular figure was decorated with a slew of tattoos and his face was twisted with painful pleasure, as if he couldn’t expend his orgasmic energy fast enough.

When he spoke, there were just enough of Gregory’s vocal chords left for Bill to recognise his friend’s voice. ‘I… I went in the shower… used the shower gel… I started changing… oh fuck, I’m so horny… I’m so, so… God, I can’t take it…’

Deep down, Bill knew he should be panicking. Clearly the wellness retreat he and Gregory had chosen to visit was no ordinary restful escape, and both of them had fallen prey to the retreat’s sordid charms.

But the sight of Gregory’s enhanced cock dispelled all his alarm. His bit his lip, glittery eyeshadow framing his bulging eyes. Whatever was left between his thighs began to twitch and his stomach flipped. He began to drool.

When Gregory turned to stare at him Bill wasn’t quite himself anymore. 

Billy giggled girlishly. ‘I think this place has done something to us,’ she said, plucking at her hotpants. ‘I feel so funny, Gregory. It’s like all I can think about is sex.’

This time it was Gregory’s turn to stare. With his eyes scrunched closed as he masturbated, this was the first time he had laid eyes on her, and as he did so something primal came over him. ‘Me too,’ he breathed. Then, when he continued, the familiar tone left his voice. ‘And you’re going to help me with that.’

Billy never knew what hit her. The brute moved so fast she had no hope of escape. Seizing her roughly by the vest he yanked her back to the sofa like a tiger dragging a deer into his den. There was no mercy in his vice-like grasp and as he pulled her along he groped he hard, his powerful hands gripping and squeezing her tits and ass and neck and thighs.

When she gathered her bearings she found herself sat astride his crotch. Her hotpants were soon torn off and her vest tugged up, exposing her petite breasts and what little remained of her cock. Gregory didn’t so much as bat an eyelid as her nub was released: he didn’t care what holes she had, just so long as he could sleeve his dick in them. The spirit of the predator had engulfed him and in his eyes she was a ragdoll for him to abuse.

Then again, Billy had no problem with that.

‘Oh my god,’ Billy cried.

Gregory’s cock burrowed so deep her stomach bulged. With lube already massaged into his shaft while he was jerking off, he slid into her easily, sinking almost his entire length into her tight hole and sending waves of pleasure cascading through Billy’s insides. Her eyes rolled and her breath came in ragged gasps, her entire torso tensing as she tried and failed to process the euphoria of the anal invasion.

She groaned as Gregory’s hands tightened around her lower thighs and eased her back onto his hot chest. Slowly, he began to thrust. Holding her in place he rolled his hips to slide in and out of her hole. The head of his cock rubbed against her P-spot with every stroke, the gentle motion tying her insides into knots of ecstasy.  

‘Does that feel good, slut?’

Her stomach flipped with arousal: she could get used to him calling her that. ‘So good. I’ve never felt this horny in my life. Fuck, I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve never found guys attractive, and I always thought taking a cock would feel so humiliating. But right now I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you. I don’t understand. I can’t fight it.’

‘Then don’t. Who cares if this place changed us? I never want to go back. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m hot, hung and I have a whore on my cock – what more could I want? Fuck Gregory: being Greg is so much better.’

Staring into his eyes, Billy realised the man she knew was gone. He had accepted his transformation and any reservations he’d had when he first changed had evaporated. All he cared about now was satisfying the sordid urges of his new body.

In that second, something clicked in Billy’s mind. Like a switch had been flipped, understanding flooded through her: she didn’t want to go back either. The hairasite hadn’t just leeched away her masculinity, it had stolen her life too. Even if she managed to remove it, she knew nothing would ever feel this good again. Her new body was made for lust and depravity, and if she turned back she would spend the rest of her life craving what she had given up. Why would she ever do that when acceptance was so much easier? Not to mention so much hotter.

Darting forwards she kissed him passionately, probing around his mouth with an eager tongue. When she pulled away, Billie had taken over.

‘Fuck me, babe. I want you to fuck me until I can’t think straight. Show me how a hot stud like you treats a naughty whore like me.’

Greg grinned devilishly. ‘With pleasure.’

Billie’s world span as he manhandled her effortlessly into a new position. Pitching her down onto her back he seized one ankle and used it to fold her backwards until her knee pressed against her shoulder. The other leg swung out over the edge of the sofa where it bobbed lightly as Greg began to thrust once more.

Ecstasy danced over her face as he drove hard against her P-spot and it wasn’t long before sensual moans were frothing on her lips.

‘Oh God, yes baby, keep going,’ she gasped, her little cock twitching as her nubile body burned with pleasure. ‘Don’t ever stop. I’ll do anything. I need your cock so bad. Fuck, you were so right – this is the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m just glad the hairasite chose me: being a bratty little slut feels so much better than life as a man.’ Her eyes twinkled with pure mischief as she eyed her lover’s muscular body. ‘And this slut is all yours, hot stuff.’

From there, Billie and Greg’s passion devolved into raw, mindless lust. Surrendering themselves to the desires of their new bodies they allowed instinct to take over, their lustful cries drifting through the open patio doors. It might not have been the result they had expected when they arrived at the wellness retreat, but there was no denying that they had never felt better. And with nobody to disturb them, they knew just how to put their revitalised energy to good use…

Thanks for reading!

The main thing to note about this piece is that, as far as I can recall, it’s my first attempt at a hairasite story. I can’t really think why I’ve never done one before, but the Tenebrarum’s pink hairstyle felt like the perfect example of a hairasite in action.

It was actually going to be longer originally, but it felt like it was starting to drag when I was writing it so I wrapped it up sooner than first planned. Truthfully, I’m happy I did because I think this is a pretty well-rounded story and I feel like adding any more would have made it feel bloated.

So let that be a lesson to other writers out there: trust your instincts. Oh, and never pick up strange wigs. Or do. Actually yes, definitely do; as Billie and Greg prove, it’s way more fun that way.


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